Trick or Threat Read online

  There was an uncomfortable silence followed by nothing. Finally, Mrs Bunn said, evidently speaking for them all, ‘We don’t like the perlice.’

  ‘Can any of you give us any sort of description of these young thugs?’ It was essential that Lady A had something other than statements with which to confront Inspector Moody, who wasn’t exactly her bosom buddy.

  Old Ma Baldwin was the first to contribute to this enquiry. ‘There were five o’ the little buggers. Three of them were about average for height, but one was very tall, another was very short. Their faces were, of course, covered by the masks.’

  Betty Bunn became animated again as she remembered one of them taking off his glove to make a phone call, when she’d noticed a tattoo on his left hand, in which he held the phone, and Lady Amanda took this to indicate that he was left-handed.

  Sheila Shilling, who had been lost in contemplation, suddenly volunteered that two of them had had a playful scuffle in which one slightly dislodged the mask of the other, revealing a tiny glimpse of ginger hair.

  When everything had been put into the correct order to make notes, it transpired that there were no individual details on Lanky and Shorty, but of the three that were of average height, one had a tattoo and was probably left-handed, and one of the other two had ginger hair. That wasn’t bad because this was only the first sitting for afternoon tea today, and there were two couples still to come and give their statements.

  As the last of the tea was drained and the last sandwich popped into a gaping maw of a mouth, Enid came in to put everything back on to the tray to return to the kitchen to assemble the meal all over again, and Beauchamp came in to remind the ladies that he needed to get them home.

  ‘How kind of you, Lady Amanda, to spare a thought for our suffering and vow to search out the culprits,’ Sheila Shilling spoke for them all.

  ‘Noblesse oblige,’ replied that lady, waving a hand at the wrist to indicate her happiness to sort out anything that happened outside the law with which the police were not willing to tangle.

  IV

  Beauchamp was gone only a quarter of an hour, collecting the next set of persecuted older people, and arrived back this time with Irish Vince and his wife, Brenda, and Petra and Percy Smudge. It had seemed more logical to have the individual witnesses first, and leave the two couples until afterwards.

  After that invaluable manservant had relieved them of their outer clothes, he ushered them into the drawing room and introduced them to Lady A and Hugo, who both stood up – very slowly, in Hugo’s case – and shook hands, declaring themselves delighted to meet their visitors. Lady A, as was her custom of honesty, had one hand behind her back so that they would not see her crossed fingers.

  Once more, the put-upon figure of Enid Tweedie entered the room with a heavy tea tray, and deposited the contents on the tea table, which had been erected between three sofas especially for the afternoon. It usually sat against the wall in its folded-down position, everyday tea being taken by the repositioning of two much smaller tables that sat at the ends of a couple of the sofas.

  Although Irish Vince claimed to have lived in Belchester for the best part of thirty years, he sounded as if he had only got off the ferry from Eire about a fortnight ago. Fortunately, his wife, evidently a local woman whom he must have met almost as soon as he arrived in the country, as her accent was much more comprehensible, did most of the talking.

  Having been served with tea, and helped themselves to the comestibles, Brenda was the first to speak. ‘It was our car they went for. We’ve made a small hard-standing in our front garden, just big enough to take our old Morris 1000, and when we said we wouldn’t offer them anything but sweeties or a fairy cake, they really got cross, and started kicking our poor old girl – the car, that is.

  One of them jumped on the front bumper and detached it, one of the others pulled off the windscreen wipers – cutting his hand in the process, I might add, and then someone got onto the bonnet and danced around until it was all dimpled and damaged.’

  ‘That’s disgraceful,’ commented Hugo. ‘When we’ve caught who’s responsible, they’re going to have a lot of damages to pay out.’

  ‘Oi won’t be holdin’ me breat,’, so Oi won’t,’ spake Irish Vince.

  ‘And what happened to you, Mr and Mrs Smidge?’ asked Lady A, trying very hard.

  ‘That’s Smudge, if you don’t mind,’ Percy corrected her, then Petra took up their tale. ‘We’ve got, or had, a small greenhouse to the side of our home where Perce brings along cuttings and grows things from seed. Well, the holy terrors only picked up some of the larger pieces of gravel from the garden path and smashed every window that they could reach with the stones. Perce’s plants are all either wilted or dead from the cold, now, and we’ll have to re-glaze it and start all over again. Very proud of his garden, is Perce, and now he’s devastated.’

  ‘It seems that you’ve all been through some very upsetting events. Now, one of the things that I need to know is whether there was any feature, however small, that would distinguish one of these thugs from the others.’

  ‘You mean apart from their height?’

  ‘That’s right. The earlier group told me about that. Anything, though, no matter how small.’

  ‘One of the medium-height ones had on a pair of Doc Marten boots, and they were red, which I thought was very odd, and he seemed to have very big feet for his size,’ declared Brenda.

  When Lady A had confirmed the other points about appearance, Petra Smudge suddenly said, ‘One of them came right up close to me. Even with his ski mask, I could see his eyes, and he had one blue eye and one brown eye. That’s quite unusual.’

  ‘That could be very helpful with our enquiries. Thank you very much, Mrs Smog.’

  ‘Smudge,’ Perce corrected her automatically.

  Lady Amanda bowed her head in apology, and wondered why she simply could not keep track of these names this afternoon. That was twice she’d boobed over one surname. A quick glance at her wrist watch provided the answer. These investigative sessions had so over-run, that it was a quarter past cocktail time already, and, with anticipatory delight, she heard the welcome tinkle of ice cubes as Beauchamp prepared to leave them something ready-made, as he was taking these two couples home.

  When Enid had, once again, cleared away the tea things, and Beauchamp was about his errand, Lady Amanda and Hugo went through to the library where Beauchamp had, indeed, left two cocktails each, ready and waiting for them. They sat down on an old ox-blood chesterfield, each with a glass in their hand, and made a general toast to life, and its continued continuity, then Lady A began to put all their clues together.

  ‘We don’t have much, but we do have some distinctive points,’ she stated to Hugo. ‘I think we have a good reason to talk to the police, especially if I can get Beauchamp to go round tomorrow and take photographs of any damage that still survives – maybe even take a blood sample or two from the front of that damaged car, if they haven’t already washed it. He has access to all sorts of records that we don’t, and something about the descriptions we have might spark off a memory or two?’

  ‘With whom?’

  ‘Our man, Glenister, of course. You surely don’t think I’d approach miserably Moody with this, do you? No; Glenister’s the man for us. I think. With what we know, it must be obvious to anyone that this wasn’t the first lot of mischief these lads got up to, but they’re much bigger than they were, and inspire real fear in people. I think we should put a notice on the gates of Belchester Towers saying that all trick-or-treaters are welcome here.’

  ‘But that would be asking for trouble, Manda,’ countered Hugo.

  ‘Not if I set another plan in operation. I shall have to have a word with Beauchamp when he gets back from his taxi run.’

  When the butler did return, he and Lady Amanda closeted themselves in the music room, leaving Hugo to doze in the library while Enid slaved over a hot stove to get dinner ready on time.

  When she had
outlined her plan to him, he nodded his head in agreement, and smiled a very shark-like smile. ‘That should sort them out m’lady. I’ll go round to collect any photographic evidence tomorrow morning while you summon DC Glenister here for the afternoon, so that we can pick his brains.

  ‘After his visit, I shall go up into the attic and see if I can find what you’ve requested and get it fixed up. It shouldn’t take too long if I get Enid and a couple of grounds’ staff to help. We can put the notice on the gate when Glenister leaves, stating that Hallowe’en visitors will be welcome between the hours of six thirty and nine. That should give the blighters a big enough window in which to plan their assault on this household.

  ‘I shall also make a trip today to the supermarket to pick up lots of sweeties and lollipops for the real trick-or-treaters. Don’t forget what else is up in the loft. We could dress the part, all four of us if I get lucky and find the trunk with the old costumes in them.’

  ‘Genius man! What fun we shall have! I can’t wait to tell Hugo.’

  V

  Lady Amanda, having supervised what Beauchamp had uncovered from the attics, had a mission of her own, and cycled off on her tricycle to a mini-market that was situated halfway between Belchester Towers and the city centre. The Indian gentleman who ran it was very on-the-ball, and he had created an extensive section of Hallowe’en disguises. Having purchased two sets of vampire fangs, two warty witches’ noses, and some green, veined hands with very long rubber fingernails, she felt she was ready to go back and ring DC Glenister.

  On her way back, she did see a bunch of youngsters sauntering around aimlessly, and felt she had the beasts in view, but decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and merely pedalled past them with her head in the air, which was unfortunate, as it made her collide with one of her own gateposts, nearly propelling her into unexpected flight. Apart from her dignity being slightly dented, however, there was no damage done, if you didn’t count a buckled front wheel, and Beauchamp could easily sort that out, no questions asked – or at least, none she was willing to answer.

  Once back on home ground, she made her call to the police station. DC Glenister was very surprised to get a call from her as he had not heard of any suspicious deaths recently, and drove out there straight away to see what sort of bee had got into the old busybody’s bonnet.

  He listened, quite spellbound, to her tale of youths demanding money with menaces, in the guise of trick-or-treaters, and pointed out that it was more of a threat than a trick that they offered.

  ‘It has been reported to the police station by more than one victim but nobody has taken it seriously. None of the households that I told you about look as if they could afford to lose any of their income to blackmailers, and they even went to the Old Convent and got fifty pounds out of Stinky and Donkey, some very old friends of ours,’ she informed the young officer.

  ‘Lieutenant-Colonel Aloysius Featherstonehaugh-Armitage and his wife Angelica,’ translated Hugo, for Glenister’s benefit.

  ‘What extraordinary names your friends seem to have,’ replied Adrian Glenister, once more captivated by the energy and enthusiasm of this elderly lady. He simply could not understand why DI Moody seemed to be permanently at odds with her. ‘I find the surnames of victims you have given me very interesting – very interesting indeed,’ but he would say no more on the matter for now.

  ‘I wondered if you could go back to the station and rustle up a couple of uniformed men, and hide them in the garden, but close enough to the porch so that they were ready to pounce. I have, as usual, a cunning plan to apprehend these young criminals.’

  ‘I couldn’t keep them here for hours,’ he replied. ‘It would be noticed.’

  ‘Oh, we don’t expect them to come until just before nine o’clock, when all the kiddies will have come and gone. We shall be ready, the trap in place. All we need is for someone to round them up and take them down to the station for charging.’

  ‘What trap? I hope no one is going to get hurt.’ Glenister was suddenly concerned.

  ‘Don’t be silly. You know me better than that. They will just be gently restrained and ready to be hand-cuffed.’

  ‘Do you promise?’

  ‘On my mother’s life,’ Lady A replied, and Hugo giggled, his reaction being quickly quelled by a baleful stare from his co-conspirator, having had everything explained to him when Lady Amanda had hidden the damaged tricycle in the stables, and issued him with his dressing-up costume.

  ‘Where on earth did you get these?’ he asked, in wonder.

  ‘My parents used to have some very good parties in the old days,’ she explained.

  VI

  Enid was very upset at being asked to wear a long, warty false nose and green rubber hands as part of her costume, but when she saw the other three, she dissolved into giggles and just accepted that Lady A’s way was the only way in these matters. Her only other problem was her pointed hat which was a fraction too large, and kept slipping down over her eyes, and getting caught up on her false nose.

  The sign on the gate had been noticed by quite a few of the local residents as they drove home from work and they had visits from a fair number of parties of young children sensibly chaperoned by a parent or two. The children found the fact that a pair witches and two vampires opened the doors to them hilarious, and everyone, even Lady A, grudgingly, had a great deal of fun.

  At nine o’clock exactly, DC Glenister and his men crept up on the softer ground between the rhododendrons and the gravelled drive. Using the light from the open porch to gauge where he should situate his men, he chose two shrubs on the front lawn for them to conceal themselves behind, having checked first that they could still hear what was being said at the door.

  He found a tree that would allow him not to have to crouch, and took up his position, as Beauchamp extinguished the porch light. Let them approach in darkness. It was more atmospheric, and they would be the more surprised for what was awaiting them.

  About ten minutes later, there was the sound of several feet crunching on the gravel, and the outside representatives of law and order were aware that their quarry approached. What would happen next they had no idea, but they waited in anticipation.

  There was some starlight, but the moon was behind a cloud. What little light there was allowed those hidden just to peek out of their hiding places and observe five figures huddled together in front of the massive front door. The tallest of them knocked hard on the door, and they all stood back so that when their summons was answered they would be revealed in all their disguised, intimidating glory.

  The porch light went on first, bathing them in a light that only enhanced their ghastly masks. At length the door was opened wide, and they were confronted by two bent, ugly witches, one of whom was rather tubby, and two vampires, one whose cloak was a little too short, and the other, whose cloak was rather long and in danger of tripping him over.

  ‘Trick or treat,’ the huddled figures chanted in unison, and were surprised when the taller of the vampires said, ‘And what do you choose?’

  Thinking that the tall geezer simply didn’t get it, the tallest of the youths shuffled slightly closer and said, menacingly, ‘No, mate, you choose, and take the consequences of your choice.’

  ‘Then, I think I’ll choose TRICK!’ Beauchamp shouted the last word, while at the same time pulling a rope that was suspended from the porch roof. At the same moment, Hugo made to move forward, and accidentally joined the youths on the top step, as a net fell down over them all, and Beauchamp reeled them in.

  Although they were taken by surprise, one of them was inventive enough to yell, ‘You can’t do anything, you lot, ’cause we’ve got your mate, and we could give him a right seeing to inside this net, and there’s nothing you could do to stop us.’

  There was a sudden howl from inside the snare of the net, followed by another, and a couple of the youths physically jumped. Hugo triumphantly held up his false teeth as a sign that he had bitten back at
his captors, only to have Lady A cheer him on with, ‘Bite ’em again, Hugo.’

  Beauchamp tightened the rope through the edges of the net, and their attention was attracted by what seemed to be a disembodied head floating through the darkness towards them. It looked angry, not in the least human, but finally revealed itself as DI Moody holding a lit torch under his chin.

  Almost simultaneously, Glenister and his two uniformed officers burst from their hiding places, the DC shouting, ‘We’ve got you surrounded. Leave the old man alone and you’ll be treated fairly.’

  Moody switched off his torch and advanced until he was staring into the net. A bit of eavesdropping goes a long way,’ he directed at Glenister, then turned to the miscreants, now hopelessly entangled. ‘I know you, Tommy. You’re the Chief Constable’s son. And you, Luke, my own nephew! And I bet I’ll know the other three of you once I get a look at your faces under your masks, but you haven’t spoken yet, so I’ll hold my fire.

  ‘Someone’s been illegally accessing police records to see who’s got a family secret about a relative with a record. And one of you at least has left behind DNA evidence on the front of a car. You’re now mine, boys, all mine.’

  With a look of suppressed fury on his face, he turned towards Lady Amanda and said, ‘Thank you very much for sorting out this little local difficulty. I think my men can take it from here.’

  How did she always know what was going on? he thought. How did she always know when something was important and in need of investigation? And, worst of all, how was he going to explain this one, not only to the Chief Constable, but also to his sister? There were going to repercussions to this little venture and, although none of it was his fault, he just knew he’d get caught in the crossfire.

  Why hadn’t he listened when those people made their complaints? He’d just thought it was youthful high spirits, and a few miserable old people taking things out of all proportion. What a way for him to learn the error of his ways. And why was Glenister here? Bum! There could be trouble ahead, and it was all that awful old woman’s fault. Why couldn’t someone knock her over the head so that he could be left in peace?